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THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE

289

CCCXXII

THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE

LET the bird of loudest lay
On the sole Arabian tree,
Herald sad and trumpet be
To whose sound chaste wings obey.

But thou shrieking harbinger,
Foul precurrer of the fiend,
Augur of the fever's end,
To this troop come thou not near.

From this session interdict
Every fowl of tyrant wing
Save the eagle, feathered king:

Keep the obsequy so strict.

Let the priest in surplice white
That defunctive music can,1
Be the death divining swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right.

And thou, treble-dated crow,

That thy sable gender mak'st

With the breath thou giv'st and takʼst,

'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.

1 Knows.

T

Here the anthem doth commence :-
Love and constancy is dead;
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.

So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one;
Two distincts, division none;
Number there in love was slain.

Hearts remote, yet not asunder;
Distance, and no space was seen
'Twixt the turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.

So beween them love did shine,
That the turtle saw his right
Flaming in the phoenix sight;
Either was the other's mine.

Property was thus appall'd,

That the self was not the same; Single nature's double name Neither two nor one was call'd.

Reason, in itself confounded,

Saw division grow together; To themselves yet either neither, Simple were so well compounded.

THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE

That it cried, 'How true a twain
Seemeth this concordant one!
Love hath reason, reason none
If what parts can so remain.'

Whereupon it made this threne
To the phoenix and the dove,
Co-supremes and stars of love
As chorus to their tragic scene.

291

THRENOS

BEAUTY, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,

Here enclosed in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix' nest;

And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest.

Leaving no posterity:
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair

That are either true or fair;

For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

Shakespeare.

CCCXXIII

ON THE DEATH OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

GIVE pardon, blessèd soul, to my bold cries,
If they, importunate, interrupt the song
Which now, with joyful notes, thou sing'st among
The angel-choristers of heavenly skies.

Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes,
That since I saw thee now it is so long,
And yet the tears that unto thee belong
To thee as yet they did not sacrifice.

I did not know that thou wert dead before;
I did not feel the grief I did sustain ;
The greater stroke astonisheth the more ;
Astonishment takes from us sense of pain;

I stood amazed when others' tears begun,
And now begin to weep when they have done.
H. Constable.

CCCXXIV

UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERTUS
MORTON'S WIFE

He first deceased; she for a little tried
To live without him, liked it not, and died.
Sir H. Wotton.

ON SALATHIEL PAVY

293

CCCXXV

IN OBITUM M S, X° MAIJ, 1614

MAY! Be thou never graced with birds that sing, Nor Flora's pride!

In thee all flowers and roses spring,

Mine only died.

Wm. Browne.

CCCXXVI

AN EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF PEMBROKE

UNDERNEATH this sable herse

Lies the subject of all verse:
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother:
Death, ere thou hast slain another
Fair and learn'd and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

B. Jonson or Wm. Browne.

CCCXXVII

ON SALATHIEL PAVY

A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL

WEEP with me, all you that read
This little story;

And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.

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